It considers humans and humanoid robots (and, also, some alien life) as comparative and different things: the robots are built only to work, exist only to work, and so too seem to be some of the humans. This novel – Danish, btw, tho I didn’t realise that until after I’d grabbed it for this 20 hour trip (translated by Martin Aitken) – is about work and workplaces, set in the far future on an investigative spaceship. I look like absolute fucking shit, and I basically don’t do anything ever with my fucking life except go to work, go to classes, go to do cardio at the fucking filthy local gym (which I find another deeply humiliating experience, as I look so fucking disgusting yet can’t exercise with privacy).
But it’s a fucking catalogue of misery and the fucking pictures of my fat old face I post every time I do it (out of a once self-indulgent (youth! beauty!) but now sick and self-destructive habit) just compounds how how how far away I am from any kind of liveable self. This blog – this ten year old blog – is the only thing that persists that feels of self. The wine course I’m doing at the moment finishes next week, but if I fail the exam (which I definitely will if the mock exam of two weeks ago is anything to go by 🤪🤪🤪), I’ll probably try to retake it again later in the year, which will mean continuing to study, continuing to fill time with tasks rather than with life or creativity or anything better than the absolute nothing I have allowed my life to become lol whoops I don’t want to – and see no purpose in – the maintenance of the life that I live, the pointlessness, the emptiness, the joylessness of the existence that I have at the moment. I don’t want that for myself, thinking of annoying work things while floating above the clouds.
I see golden sand beaches and try to focus on them but keep getting distracted by annoying thoughts about work, which tho I am officially not doing today, I am not able to completely ignore. I have a window seat, and I’m alternating between reading a novel and looking out of the window through the cloud cover down to the beaches of the Dutch coast far below the clouds. I’m on a 20 hour trip to Copenhagen right now, which feels like something that should feel more fun than it does right now, while I’m on the plane flying there. Cw: mental illness, suicide ideation, pharmacological treatment of mental illness
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